“We’re leaving.”
Tyson grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. I want nothing more than to get away from these people, but Kate was about to tell me something I think she wasn’t supposed to. Something that I think we need to know.
I sidle closer to him, bite my lip, and look imploringly into his eyes. “But I’m curious, Ty.”
“Yeah, Ty. Share your bounty,” George cajoles.
His eyes narrow, and his jaw hardens. “No, actually, I don’t want that.”
“What does she want?” That comes from Ron as he runs bold, lascivious eyes over my body. I have no intention of letting any of these people touch me, but Tyson won’t know that.
“Yeah, babe, what about what I want?”
“The only dick you want is attached to me.”
“I mean, yeah…on a normal night.” I smile at the group of onlookers and then bat my lashes up at him, ignoring his thunderous expression. “But we’re in Paris for a reason, remember?” I widen my eyes and hope he understands what I mean.
“Oh, what’s that?” Kate asks.
“It’s my birthday this weekend,” I reply, and then I look back at Tyson. “Please? I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Me, too. I’ve been dreaming about what her ass would look like naked and bouncing on my cock.” This comes from Ron, and I’m so shocked by his brazen words that I don’t realize Tyson has let go of me until he’s standing in front of Ron, with the small man’s collar in his fist, dragging him to his feet.
What the hell? I rush over. “Tyson, stop.”
He ignores me. “You better never even look at my woman again, Ron. I want you to purge that image of her from your mind. I don’t give a shit what you do with your woman, but I don’t share what’s mine.” He lets him go, and ignoring everyone else, turns to face me.
The anger in his eyes is so fierce, I take a step backward.
“I said we’re leaving. Now.”
He stalks over to me, lifts me off my feet, and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of rice.
“Tyson, what the hell?” I wiggle, trying to slide off. The arm banded around my thighs tightens to hold me in place. With his other hand, he smacks my ass hard enough that I freeze, shocked both by the sting and his audacity.
He takes advantage of my stillness and rushes down the last flight of stairs and sets me on my feet. He straightens to his full height, and his dark eyes go cold and hard like chips of coal instead of the glittering onyx they’ve been all night.
“We are working, Dina. When I tell you to do something, you do it and without making a spectacle of both of us.”
I am so shocked at his anger and the disrespect of his actions and words that I forget myself. “I’m not the one who forgot that we’re working. And I don’t report to you.”
“You may think you’re my mother’s pet because she handpicked you for this assignment. But on this trip, you do. Don’t forget it’s my name on that paycheck you enjoy so much...”
Then he turns and stalks toward the entrance. I glance up and want to scream when I see several heads disappear back over the railing. Great, we had an audience.
For a second I contemplate going back upstairs. But I dislike those people even more than I dislike Tyson right now. And his threat just now, however hollow, rattled me. I can’t afford to mess this up, and he’s right. As much as Tina Wilde may like me, he’s her son.
The adrenaline that was fueling my anger fizzles. Humiliated and hurt, I do the only thing I can and follow Tyson outside.
There’s an SUV idling outside the house, and a petite woman with a blonde ponytail and a black baseball cap pulled down low enough to cover her eyes is standing by the open back door. “Ms. Lu, Mr. Wilde is inside already. Once you join him, we’ll be on our way.” She smiles politely and gestures for me to get in, but there’s nothing deferential in her tone. I can’t see inside the dark cavernous interior of the car without getting any closer. Sure she knows my name, but I’ve heard stories of girls going missing, and I glance down the deserted street. “Tyson, are you in the car?” I yell.
“Get into the car, Dina,” his clipped response comes from inside the SUV.
Equal parts relieved and annoyed, I give the woman an apologetic half smile and hoist myself inside.
Tyson is sitting at the far edge of the seat, and he doesn’t say a word when I climb in. Instead, he lifts his hand and holds up his phone. I lean forward to read the message he’s typed on.
She drives for my mother when she’s in town. Don’t say anything you don’t want her to know.
There’s plenty I want to say that I wouldn’t say in front of his mother.
But I can’t sit here for the whole car ride and not get those things off my chest.
I take my phone out and send him a text.
I am not the one who forgot we were there to work tonight. Because unlike you and trust fund baby friends that were born with gold parachutes, I earned my job.
“Hold the fuck on,” he grumbles.
No, I won’t hold the fuck on. You think if your last name wasn’t on my paycheck - the one I earn every cent of thank you very much - that you’d be in Paris running the show?
“Of course I would,” he hisses. The three grey dots pop up as he starts to type, fast and furious on his phone.
I keep going.
And I’ll tell you another thing. Your mother asked me to come because she didn’t trust you to be objective about your friends. And she was right.
His response pops onto my screen.
I’m not going to dignify any of that garbage you just spewed. If you think anyone has ever given me anything, then you’re fucking blind. I’ll chalk it up to the countless glasses of Champagne you had tonight. What happened in the bathroom doesn’t change the fact that, while you’re here, you report to ME. And if you want to have a job at all when this is over, you’d better not forget that again.
I gasp at his vitriol, insults, and threats. “Oh, don’t you worry,” I hiss.
I will never forget who you are again.
I drop my phone into my purse and press myself into the opposite corner of the car to put as much room between us as possible.
We ride to the hotel in complete silence, and every second that passes darkens my mood. He had no right to manhandle me, threaten my job, and lord his position over me like that.
But he wasn’t wrong when he said I’d forgotten who he was, and why everything we’d done since we got to that house tonight had been wrong. He’s also right that I would never talk to anyone I worked with, or for, the way I spoke to him just now.
And I have no one to blame but myself for that scene I made while we were still in earshot of those people.
The job I was sent here to do was the last thing on my mind most of the night. It felt so good to be touched, and kissed, and possessed by him, and I forgot what’s at stake for me.
I can’t do my job with so much unresolved between us. So I need to get this man out of my system, one way or another. And then get my head in the game.